


Grocery List God

by elysiumwaits



Series: Weekly Werewolf Sitcom [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Banter, Derek Hale is a Softie, Grocery Shopping, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Pack Dad Derek Hale, Pack Family, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Slice of Life, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Unconventional Dirty Talk that Isn't Dirty at All
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits
Summary: Getting six werewolves to act like socially-acceptable people in a grocery store is a difficult job, but someone's got to do it. Stiles is, unfortunately, that someone.--“Don’t race the carts!” Stiles calls, rolling his eyes. “We can’t get kicked out, we live in this town!” He turns a glare on Derek. “You’re weak. You caved so hard. In like a second.”





	Grocery List God

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by me attempting to grocery shop this morning - I thought about writing this instead of focusing on all of the insane people and noise around me at Wal-Mart after church on a Sunday.
> 
> Really just dumb fluff that I wrote in like two hours, not beta-ed. There is no plot here.

“Why the holy hell are you all here?” Stiles asks when he and Derek climb out the Jeep to find half the pack waiting in the grocery store parking lot. “Oh no. No, nuh-uh, we’re not doing this. Get back in your cars and go away, you will eat what we buy, and you will be happy with it.” He’s pretty sure that, although Derek is doing the stoic thing with his face, his eyes are smiling behind his sunglasses. 

In front of them, leaning on the bumpers of two different cars and looking like a ragtag group of hooligans out for trouble, are Jackson, Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. Jackson seems annoyed as ever, scowling with his arms crossed next to Boyd. It’s a tactical move, Stiles knows, because Boyd is the calmest of the bunch - Isaac, Scott, and Erica can easily build on each other and end up doing headache-inducing things like racing IKEA carts or climbing trees. Boyd won’t usually talk them out of it like Allison or Lydia will, instead opting to watch with blatant but quiet amusement, but by standing next to Boyd, Jackson is less likely to get goaded into doing something dangerous or dumb. 

Scott, Erica, and Isaac all turn pleading eyes on Stiles. “Stiles,” Scott says, apparently having been previously appointed as their spokesperson. “It’s Sunday! We always hang out on Sundays. This way we can hang out and be productive at the same time.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles doesn’t buy this one bit. “You just want to come grocery shopping with us because you think you’ll get a say in what goes in the cart. You won’t get a say, Scott, we have a list.” He gives the paper in his hand an emphatic shake. “We are  _ not deviating from the list _ . So go home, or to the loft, or go work on the house, or something far away from here.” He makes a shooing motion, and steels himself against three matching puppy dog faces (plus Boyd’s grin and Jackson’s scowl). 

What he absolutely isn’t prepared for, though, is for those three puppy dog faces (and Boyd’s grin and Jackson’s scowl) to shift from him to  _ Derek _ . He barely has time to realize what’s happened before Derek buckles under the pressure and shrugs, which is pretty much a surefire yes in Derek-body-language.

Erica whoops, and she, Scott, and Isaac take off running for the cart corrals, presumably to get a headstart on wreaking havoc in the local grocery store, while Boyd and Jackson follow the terror trio at a leisurely pace.

“Don’t race the carts!” Stiles calls, rolling his eyes. “We can’t get kicked out, we live in this town!” He turns a glare on Derek. “You’re weak. You caved so hard. In like a second.”

Derek shrugs again, pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head. “They’re all going to college in a couple months, might as well get some time in before they go.”

“I am nineteen years old, Derek,” Stiles says, like he’s not grinning because Derek is such a sap, deep in his little werewolf heart. “I don’t think you’re allowed to have any kind of empty-nest feelings before the age of thirty-five, at least. They’re going to make a mess, and they’ll probably try to sneak junk food and god knows what else into the cart when we’re not looking. Your bank account is going to suffer from this, you know it will.” 

He’s not serious anymore, and they both know it. Derek has a good point - though everyone’s colleges are relatively close and Stiles is going to be taking online classes rather than going to a campus in the name of working on his Spark for a couple years, he’s going to miss his pack. Maybe that’s worth the headache of wrangling six werewolves into acting like people at the grocery store. 

He leans over and bumps his shoulder into Derek’s, grinning when the wolf looks over to catch his eye. “We’re going to end up with three carts of groceries, and you know it.”

“We have the deep freeze,” Derek says. “I’m gonna have to buy a fridge for the house anyway.”

Stiles snorts. “You don’t even have electricity at the house yet. You’re going to have two refrigerators in your loft, because you’re soft and you can’t say no to your betas. It’s going to be ridiculous, and they will love it.”

Derek nods, smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He’s so reserved in public sometimes that Stiles has a hard time reading him. “Jackson’s going to talk you into getting everything you need to make lemon bars, and Isaac’s going to just carry around craisins and salad mix until we tell him to put it in the cart.”

Stiles stops walking to watch as Scott takes off running - at a normal human speed, thank goodness - with Erica in the basket of a shopping cart. Jackson is currently being talked into pushing a cart with Isaac in it, and is clearly wavering from his safe place next to Boyd. This will probably end in blood or property damage. 

“No more than three packs of those M&M cookies for Erica, or she’ll make herself sick again,” Stiles says, looking at Derek. 

“Boyd likes that caramel popcorn stuff.” Derek nods, and snags the list out of Stiles’ hand and the pen from behind Stiles’ ear. He starts writing, and Stiles resigns himself to his fate. “He won’t ask for it, so it has to be on the list already.”

“Lydia and Allison aren’t here, but we’ll have to figure them in too, or we’ll never hear the end of it. Do we need to factor Peter in this week?”

Derek shakes his head. “He’s doing that thing in Nevada, so we can skip getting that coffee he likes. What about Scott?”

Stiles snorts again. “Scott wouldn’t know shy if it bit him in the ass, you know that. He’ll throw what he wants in the cart.”

They look at the modified list together for a long moment. 

“Alright, lowkey goal is to get everyone out alive and without bloodshed.” Stiles gives a fond sigh. “Highkey goal is to not get temporarily or permanently banned from this fine establishment, because I don’t want to have to drive to the next town over to grocery shop every two weeks.”

“Tall order,” Derek jokes. “We’ve only been banned from two places in town, babe, I don’t think the grocery store will-”

There’s a sudden loud crash, the distinct sound of a cart smacking into another cart, followed by a yelp, a thump, and then the loud blare of a car alarm going off. Stiles and Derek resolutely stare at each other instead of looking over at what is sure to be another hit to Derek’s wallet.

“Well, we can always have groceries delivered off the Internet,” Stiles says with a sigh. “You want to rock-paper-scissors to see who has to deal with that?”

Derek shakes his head, but still doesn’t look over. The car alarm is still going off, and the betas are suspiciously silent now. “Take the list and run. Maybe they’ll let us check out before they ban us if it’s already in the cart.”

“I don’t want to look,” Stiles mutters. “I talked Isaac off the top of a telephone pole a couple weeks ago, Derek. Erica and Scott are banned from three IKEAs. I hate to say it, but I think Jackson and Boyd are the good children.”

“We still have Allison and Lydia.” Derek looks over at whatever mess awaits him and gives a barely-imperceptible sigh. “Good news, no one is bleeding.”

“Bad news?”

“Erica  _ appears _ to have rolled across the hood of a Toyota Camry. She and Scott look pretty guilty, and she hasn’t gotten off the ground yet. I think she may have dented something. There’s an upside-down shopping cart.”

“Where are Jackson and Isaac?” Stiles still doesn’t look. He’s not sure his blood pressure can handle it. “Do I want to know?”

“I think they left the scene of the crime, there’s an abandoned shopping cart near the front of the store.” Derek scans the parking lot. “Boyd is standing far enough away to indicate he wasn’t involved, but he’s definitely doing that thing.”

“The thing where he’s laughing but he’s not? Erica’s probably not dead, then, at least.” Stiles rolls his eyes and blows out a huff. “How’s that empty-nest thing going for you?”

“It’ll be quiet,” Derek says, and squares his shoulders as he prepares to go deal with whatever the hell they’ve just done to that poor Camry. “I’m not sure if that’ll be a blessing or a curse yet.”

“Little of both, depending on the day.” Stiles works up the courage and glances over, and, yep, that sure looks like Erica’s managed to dent a car they don’t even own. She doesn’t have good luck with cars, that’s for sure. “Okay. You go be the big bad Alpha, I’ll go start the shopping. Bring ‘em in if they promise to behave.” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Derek’s face. “I’ll get you that weird carbonated water you like so much.”

“Get the kind I like,” Derek says quickly. “Not the berry kind.”

A grin spreads across Stiles’ face. “I will only get ‘the kind you like’ if you say what flavor it is.”

Derek glares a little, pretending he’s not about to break into a smile despite the chaos awaiting him across the parking lot. “Pamplemousse,” he says quickly. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a real fruit.”

“I just like hearing your badass, model-hot voice saying nonsensical words. It turns me on.”

“Collywobbles,” Derek says, low and seductive. “Bumbershoot. Lollygag.”

“Oh, baby, you get me so hot,” Stiles deadpans.

“Flibbertigibbet.” Derek finishes with a wink no one else can see, and then turns away, dropping his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how amused he really is, putting a scowl on his face instead. “Reconvene in twenty minutes?”

“I’ll shoot for a speed-run.” Stiles starts heading toward the entrance of the grocery store they probably won’t be allowed into again after this. He does, however, take a moment to check out just how nice Derek’s jeans fit him, before he goes inside with Boyd following from where he’d been standing and witnessing Erica and Scott’s crash-and-burn. 

“There’s always online grocery delivery,” Boyd offers. “You know, for when we get banned.”

“You are all conspiring to give me grey hair,” Stiles says. “Come on, let’s go get your popcorn.”


End file.
